It is a common custom, in the part of Maryland from which I ran away, to part children from their mothers at a very early age. My mother and I were separated when I was but an infant-before I knew her as my mother. The opinion was also whispered that my master was my father but of the correctness of this opinion, I know nothing the means of knowing was withheld from me. He was admitted to be such by all I ever heard speak of my parentage. My mother was of a darker complexion than either my grandmother or grandfather. She was the daughter of Isaac and Betsey Bailey, both colored, and quite dark. I come to this, from hearing my master say, some time during 1835, I was about seventeen years old. The nearest estimate I can give makes me now between twenty-seven and twenty-eight years of age. He deemed all such inquiries on the part of a slave improper and impertinent, and evidence of a restless spirit.
I was not allowed to make any inquiries of my master concerning it. I could not tell why I ought to be deprived of the same privilege. The white children could tell their ages. A want of information concerning my own was a source of unhappiness to me even during childhood. They seldom come nearer to it than planting-time, harvest-time, cherry-time, spring-time, or fall-time. I do not remember to have ever met a slave who could tell of his birthday.
By far the larger part of the slaves know as little of their ages as horses know of theirs, and it is the wish of most masters within my knowledge to keep their slaves thus ignorant. I have no accurate knowledge of my age, never having seen any authentic record containing it. I was born in Tuckahoe, near Hillsborough, and about twelve miles from Easton, in Talbot county, Maryland.
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